


Bough Breaking

by voleuse



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-05
Updated: 2004-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I ain't gonna sit, I ain't gonna stay</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bough Breaking

**Author's Note:**

> Written after the first movie. Summary taken from Ani DiFranco's "Cradle And All."

_i. rock-a-bye, baby_

Running a ship takes a concerted effort. From the lowliest drudge to the captain of them all, each sailor has to play his part in the symphony. Otherwise, things go awry, the ship sinks, and everybody drowns.

Will Turner, Anamaria thinks, never truly understood that. Not until he joined the crew of the Black Pearl, anyhow, and it shows in the way he works. His distaste for drudgery smolders so intensely that most of the crew won't come within three feet of him, no matter their tasks. He wants more than anything, she can see, to be at the helm, or at least to stand by whoever has the helm.

Time enough, he'll learn, but for now he's useless. Pretty enough, she muses, but a child in his skills.

She hopes that his lessons will take quickly, though, because a loose cannon, even a piratical one, could easily splinter a ship's planks.

_ii. on the tree top_

Anamaria likes the view from atop the mast. The crow's nest, though she doesn't think of it as that, when she's perched on it. She can see the world, and past the horizon, until the universe unfolds before her like a map.

This is the only place that she allows herself to philosophize, because the gods are the only things that could touch her, here.

The crew is gathered on the deck, she can see, forming a circle around an impromptu swordfight. It is, as always, Jack and Will sparring. Until Turner came aboard, Jack was undoubtedly the most adept in swordplay, and he welcomed the competition with the ferocity that he welcomed every surprise in life.

In the depths of the ship, no one dares to bet _against_ Jack, but all agree that there is room for uncertainty. One day, Will might outright win, instead of the murky draws that have characterized the duels since he came aboard.

Jack fights, Anamaria observes, the way he makes love, feinting without warning and parrying with insolence. Breathtaking and infuriating at the same time.

She then turns her attention to Will, who fights steadily. His style isn't surprising, but it is overwhelming, as he builds to a crescendo that forces Jack to trip over three crewmen and throw his sword down heartily, laughing and calling for drinks all around.

Still not a win for Will, but something akin to a revelation for Anamaria.

Interesting, she thinks. How very, very interesting.

_iii. when the wind blows_

The ship's officers meet in Jack's quarters on a regular basis. Jack, Gibbs, Anamaria, the bo'sun whose name she's never cared to remember, and Cotton, who keeps accounts as best a pirate can.

Turner, for some reason, seems to feel he belongs in the meetings, and Anamaria is the only one to say nay, so he's become a regular fixture in the evenings.

Most nights the meetings, informal at best, adjourn when one or the other officer decides they've had enough. This night in particular, Cotton and the bo'sun saunter off to check on provisions (they've been at sea for weeks, now). The rest linger for a while, but when Jack's responses to Anamaria's insults take a certain tone, Gibbs excuses himself with a knowing grin.

After several minutes of bickering, Anamaria finally silences Jack's blustering with a bite and a kiss, and then there are several minutes more of clawing and growling, until finally they're both more or less disrobed, and Anamaria is sprawled over the maps on the table, Jack standing between her spread thighs, fucking her until she screams.

Will never moves from his seat.

_iv. the cradle will rock_

It's a few weeks before that confluence of events strikes again, and Anamaria enjoys the way young Turner blushes and runs away whenever she addresses him.

The next time she's straddled Jack in his chair while Will sits across from them, however, Jack stops her, a gleam in his eye.

"This is hardly fair to young Will, don't you think?"

Anamaria looks over her shoulder at Turner, at his flushed cheeks, at the furtive movements of his hand.

She grins.

_v. when the bough breaks_

Young Will, she's surprised to discover, is less young, and more adept, than she had previously assumed. From the past few weeks, she would have thought he'd never touched a lass before tonight, but the look in his eyes now screams familiarity.

His hands trail down her body and under her clothes with confidence. She likes it, even if she doesn't like him all that much.

She finds herself reassessing Elizabeth Swann.

_vi. the cradle will fall_

This time around, it's Will sprawled over the maps, and Anamaria surveys his body with eyes, then lips. When her tongue trails over his chest, his hands delve into her hair. She snarls, then, and jerks her head up, looking at Jack pointedly. He chuckles, rises from his seat, and takes Will's wrists, holding them firmly against the table.

Will jerks in surprise, and Anamaria takes advantage of the moment to climb onto the table herself and frame Will's hips with her knees. She plunges onto him without prelude, and his body twitches again, but he manages to still himself quickly.

She's impressed enough that she considers not using her nails to rake welts into the still too-smooth skin of his, but really, where would the fun be if she didn't?

From his arch and moan when she does it, he certainly doesn't mind.

_vii. and down will come baby_

She likes the way Will pants as he thrusts up, up, into her; it's like his entire being is centered on her. As earnest and overwhelming as he might be, however, Anamaria realizes she needs a bit more than sincerity to get what she wants.

Jack abandoned Will's wrists long ago, about the time that Will clutched his hands around the table's edges, so strongly that Anamaria expected to hear splinters. Jack returned to his seat with a smirk, and hasn't move from it since, as if he was watching at the bloody theatre.

She meets his gaze, sees the heat in them, and bites out one word: "Jack."

The command is inherent, and when Anamaria looks down at Will again, she laughs at the confusion in his eyes. When Jack slides behind her, there's surprise as well, and something else that Anamaria means to explore at another time.

For now, however, she's satisfied with Jack's hands, slipping over her breasts, and flitting to the juncture between her legs, where Will still pumps steadily. When Jack's mouth finally lands at that spot on her neck, just under her jaw, she throws her head back and wails, her body twisting as she comes.

Will soon follows her, and Jack falls back from the table, meanders to his bed, shedding his clothes as he goes.

As soon as she's able, Anamaria leaps off of Will, off the table, and drags him up again.

"We're not done yet, Turner."

He barely resists as she pulls him to the bed, and by the time they fall in with Jack, he's not resisting at all.

_viii. cradle and all_

She's awake before either of them, and dressed just as quick. When she reaches for the door's handle, however, Will stops her with a word.

"Anamaria?"

She stops, against her instincts, and turns back to look at him. Jack's arm is draped over his hip, and there's a bitemark on his throat. She's not sure who put it there. "What?" she asks, but she speaks more softly than she intended.

Will's expression is unsure, and he attempts to speak half a dozen times before he manages a word. "We--"

She shakes her head, stilling his speech. "You're still a child, Turner," she says. "You're still not one of us." She turns back, opens the door, but she spares Will one final glance, and a smile that might almost be friendly. "But you'll learn."

She shuts the door behind her, and turns her face to the sun.


End file.
